


and then there was us

by ShaneDarkwin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Bittersweet, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Some Humor, Therapy, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29523018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneDarkwin/pseuds/ShaneDarkwin
Summary: "Remind me again why we agreed to this? Oh, that's right," Wanda says, her voice turning sour, "we didn't."Two sets of eyes bore into the back of Sam's head as he passes his gloomy teammates. "Somebody's gotta take care of y'all now that Steve's retired. So suck it up and get your asses in here."or: Sam is seriously concerned about his teammates wellbeing and forces them to go to therapy with him. he starts what i like to call: the therapy trio
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Wanda Maximoff & Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Sam Wilson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	and then there was us

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by That Tweet (Bucky, Sam and Wanda needed therapy, not their own TV shows (now confirmed by Seb Stan himself))

"Remind me why we're here again?" Bucky asks, looking at the building they're about to enter.

"And remind me again why we agreed to this? Oh, that's right," Wanda adds, her voice turning sour, "we _didn't_."

Two sets of eyes bore into the back of Sam's head as he passes his gloomy teammates. "Somebody's gotta take care of y'all now that Steve's retired. So suck it up and get your asses in here."

The two share a moment of silent communication that ends with Bucky shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. Tentatively, they follow Sam's lead down a lowly-lit corridor and find him waiting for them at a doorway. Both try to ignore his pride-filled gaze. Neither are very successful at it. (Sam let's it slide, just this once.)

With Sam spearheading their little trio once more they enter into a broad room. Tables have been stacked along the walls and a loose circle of chairs is standing at the center of the space that's been created, with several more waiting by a corner. Unlike the corridor through which they came, this room is bright and not half as frightening as expected. The few people that are already there greet them quietly, but mostly stick to their on-going conversations. Neither Bucky nor Wanda complain. 

There's a snack table at the far left and Sam naturally gravitates toward it, inadvertently pulling the other two with him like moons trapped in his orbit. While one fusses over the choice between red, white and blue sprinkles or cream filling, two spiral silently in their own unique ways. Wanda begins to fidget, hastily spinning the ring around left ringfinger as restless eyes flit through the room, searching but never finding. 

Bucky, meanwhile, turns as still as stone: teeth grind against teeth as his jaw locks, elbows press sharply into his ribs and shoulders tense as to make himself appear as small as possible.

Both flinch as a hand closes on their shoulder, the small touch pulling them back to the present. "Let's sit, guys."

Majority of the room's occupants have taken their seats by now, leaving empty spaces between them occasionally, but never enough to fit three people. Before Wanda can protest, Sam gently nudges her and Bucky to sit down one of the gaps and fashions himself a third chair from the spares. He avoids eye contact with them when he neatly places it in the small space between their respective ones, yet there's no hiding the smug energy radiating off of him. He likes to imagine he feels a whiff of gratitude radiating back. 

"I welcome you all back in our midst, and I'm also glad to welcome a couple new faces into the group," a woman at the opposite side of the circle opens the session. Her voice is pleasant and calm, her posture relaxed and open, but not without an air of professionalism to it. Sam lets it wash over him and familiar sense of tranquility befalls him as the therapist presents her opening lines. Squinting over at his teammates he tries to decypher the masks they wear to hopefully gain a peek underneath. From what he can tell, Bucky looks like he's either about to pass out or vomit and Sam's about 78% certain Wanda is actively planning her escape route already. But for now, they are both here next to him, and that is enough.

The first participant takes heart and Sam's thoughts dissipate. His team and their wellbeing is important to him, of course, that's why he brought them, but in-session he pays attention to nothing but the stories shared. Those sixty minutes a week are his time-out, his safe haven. Here he's not The Falcon, or an Avenger, or Captain America (whatever the hell that even means, he hasn't really had time to process all that yet). In here, he's just Sam Wilson: ex-Air Force pilot who lost his partner in combat, who could never really hold a normal job since, and one of half of all living beings that were wiped from existence for five years while the world moved on without them. And Sam Wilson copes best by listening.

"My husband, when The Blip happened, I hoped he'd somehow acome back to me, too. And he did, I guess, for the three days he and the rest of his flight were stranded in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, not far from where their plane went down five years before.

"So, in a way, I lost him twice. When I grieved him first five years ago, still holding out a sliver of hope, and then again now. I don't know I-- I guess I just thought that it would be different. 

"Three years ago felt like coming out the other side of a long winter, you know? For months I was frozen. Frozen still without warmth, or light, or hope. And then little by little, tiny specs appeared on the horizon again and things started to thaw. 

"My sister, she got real lucky, you know, she got pregnant. So I told myself "If you can just make it to see your nephew, that's enough". And I made that. I don't know how, looking back, but I did. More good things happened, and bad things happened too, and life just-- it went on. He wasn't there anymore, but I was. No matter how much I despised it. Eventually, I had to come to terms with that. And that's when I started going on as well."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam watches a thin stream of tears run down Wanda's cheek. The warm compassion he feels toward the man sharing his story with them right now is suddenly struck with icy pain and the hollow sensation of an innate want, no, need to help without knowing how. Slowly, careful not to startle her, he sits up straight and squares his shoulders. It's enough to bridge the small space between his shoulder and Wanda's, his shirt not quite touching the fabric of her jacket. It's little more than an offer, a muted signal saying " _I'm here should you ever need me_ ", and though it feels so small, so insignificant, it's enough. It's more than enough. 

(The tears don't stop for a while. They're still falling when the man stops talking, he's crying himself now, and they only begin to run dry when the third speaker is in the middle of sharing their story. The woman next to Wanda procures a whole box of tissues out of her Mary-Poppins-like purse and offers one to her in quiet understanding. Wanda's surprise at the small, yet kind gesture is as pure as it is heartbreaking, and Sam finds himself blinking back tears of his own.)

"I know it's wrong of me," the next speaker begins minutes later, "but I just can't help but feel betrayed. Listening to your stories, it gives me perspective, it helps me understand, but this feeling deep inside of me says it's isn't fair, it just isn't fair. For me, this was a blink of an eye. One minute I'm there, the next everything's changed. My partner is suddenly married to someone else, my friends have all split and moved across the country, half my family died while I was gone. My entire support system is broken, shattered into a million pieces at my feet and I'm supposed to just suck it up and move on?

"My entire life was turned upside down and the worst thing is, I can't even blame anyone for it. The guy who's responsible is dead. So where do I put my anger? 

"I just, where do I go from here? It's not my friends' fault for moving on, I would've too if I was in their shoes. And the Avengers, well, they just did their job, right? They brought us all back. Sure, it sucks that the government was unprepared for this situation, but complaining feels so ungrateful. It's like I'm saying: 'Yeah, I wouldn't have cared if I'd stayed dead, but thanks for bringing me back into a world that I have no place in, I guess.' 

"I mean, no offence, guys, you did your best," they say right at the three Avengers opposite them, grin on their face that doesn't quite reach their watery eyes. Sam cracks a sad smile and chokes out: "None taken." 

There's scattered laughs and half-smiles along their circle, even Wanda's lips twist in a hunch of amusement, momentarily drowning out her hushed sniffles. Only Bucky remains stone-faced, and Sam makes a mental note to keep tabs on that.

"I think it's important for us all right now to remember our feelings, whether they be positive or negative, are valid," the therapist says. "This is an unprecedented event in history and we carry the additional burden of having no guidelines, no prior experiences or knowledge to draw upon in dealing with this. Anger, especially the fundamental and unfocused kind you're speaking of here, is an especially tricky emotion to deal with. Yet you mustn't block it out for anyone else's comfort. Find an outlet if you can, give it voice in spaces like this. Don't let it consume you, is what I'm trying to say." 

She scans the room for more eagerness to talk and checks her watch when, presumably, no one rings her psychologist-bell. Then she proposes: "Unless there's anyone else wanting to share their piece today, I say we wrap this up and get to clearing those snacks Phyllis brought in." No one disagrees with her on that. 

* * *

Sam places a napkin stuffed with miniature soft-pretzels that for some inexplicable reason no one else at the sessiom seemed interested in on the kitchen counter in the Avengers HQ. Perks of being promoted to Captain America include owning a sick base of operations, free of charge. 'They also include chaperoning the other "leftovers", so to speak', Sam thinks as he watches Wanda disappear into the room she once occupied, long before shit ever really hit the fan. She has sincr reclaimed it, following her declining Clint's offer of becoming a farm-hand/au-pair. Sam doesn't really fault her for that decision.

When Sam finally finds him, Bucky is standing at one of the absolutely preposterous floor-to-ceiling windows Steve always praised for "giving enemies no vantage points". It didn't matter how often Sam reminded him Friday would alert them to any intruders long before Steve could have spotted them, his enthusiasm for those dang things never diminished. 

"Waiting on your prince, Rapunzel? I don't think he'll get through security, if I'm honest," he states as he joins Bucky in looking out over the lot. His cunning wit hits an empty target, but Sam has learned to roll with the punches with this one anyway. Thinking about it, he could do way worse than stoic silence. With a shudder he remembers the never-ending chatter from that Spiderling and he's nearly overcome with enough joy to hug Bucky. Just nearly, though. 

"Do you think he thought about us?" 

Sam catches himself before he can say "Huh?" and instead draws out the moment long enough for Bucky to continue before he can make a fool of himself. 

"When Steve chose to make a life for himself in a different time, do you think he ever thought about us? What we'd do without him?" 

"No," Sam answers honestly after a beat. "I think that for once in his life, Steve Rogers only thought of himself."

Bucky's jaw tightens at this reply, but he knows it's the truth. 

The two men stand side by side in companionable silence for a while. Sam knows he can't take this weight off his teammate's shoulders, but what he can do is try and help him carry it. And he'll be damned if he didn't at least do that. 

"I'm going downstairs to let off some steam," he finally breaks the quiet. "When you're done wistfully staring into the distance, you're welcome to join me. We'll see if an old man still has what it takes for this team." 

Sam turns to leave without waiting for an answer. After a second of consideration, Bucky yells after him: "If it turns out you don't actually, does that mean I get the shield?" 

**Author's Note:**

> long time marvel fan, first time writing it. i never much interacted with this fandom before because it's so big it's kind of intimidating but inspiration struck and bam, here we are.  
> now that im done i noticed that Sam never actually gets to address his own feelings. truth be told, i don't think i know enough about him to write that scene yet. hoping to see a lot more of him and especially his own agenda in March when Falcon & Winter Soldier finally comes out so maybe he'll get it then?? he's honestly such a underrated character and deserves more depth than what he's been previously given.  
> if you wanna talk marvel (especially WandaVision, im o b s e s s e d) hit me up on tumblr @visions-indestructible-head if u like.


End file.
